1. Unusual build and how ten mile training translated into marathon performance

Summer was a 5k block, then autumn was focused on extending speed out for my first ever ten mile race, the Great South Run. Having a marathon dumped two weeks prior to this goal race was far from ideal, but you don’t give up your first opportunity to represent your country (at your favourite distance), so it just needed to be managed carefully.

Chester was never going to be a PB attempt, though, for a few reasons:

1. To hold back just enough to recover for GSR.
2. I had done literally no runs over 30km for more than five months.
3. It’s not the fastest course; not crazily hilly, but certainly not flat, and about double the elevation of London, for example.
4. I only went into this with a partial taper, since the England ‘experience’ was far more important to me than the result.

So, I went in excited and proud, but with limited expectations, and my coach and I agreed that sub 2:35 sounded reasonable. The plan was to run sub-maximally, keep heart rate low, and just see what that spat out in terms of time. It couldn’t have gone better. I barely even looked at my pace or splits, and finished in 2:32:04, less than two minutes off my marathon PB, and to my great surprise after, as the second placed M40 runner across both the England and Wales teams.

2. Running relaxed is key to performance

Given the casual build-up, the low-key expectations, and the fact that Chester Marathon is a welcome couple of tiers below the majors on the general event stress scale, I was pretty relaxed on race morning. Knowing I was running to such a sensible heart rate (keeping it below 162, approximately 85% of my estimated max) meant there really wasn’t much that could go wrong.

So I did just that, and I also had a smile on my face for a lot of it. I had family in the crowd, my England vest on, and this was an opportunity to proudly reflect for a couple of hours on how my running journey had taken me here. I was that incredibly annoying guy thanking all the volunteers and spectators, and engaging far more than normal with my fellow runners. Absolutely buzzing, basically.

The fact that this translated into such a surprising result was also made possible by my historical endurance running (i.e. plenty of previous marathons), although while the heart and lungs were very comfortable, there was certainly a bit of neuromuscular fatigue creeping in towards the end. The body just wasn’t used to going long in this block. Fortunately, the end arrived before this became a real issue, and I was able to finish with a flourish, unknowingly pipping the second place M40 runner.

So this was a big tick for running relaxed, and indeed for slightly smaller races. Sometimes it’s good to go all in for the adrenaline of a major, but sometimes it’s just a nicer and more chilled experience for runners (and spectators) at a medium sized event like Chester.

3. The importance of pack-racing and in-race decisions

The previous paragraph describes what sounds like the most serene race of all time, and while this was mostly true, there were a couple of key points in the race that helped ensure this was the case.

The first, and most important, was after about five miles. I found myself on my own and adrift of two packs; one in front and one behind me. Given the sparsely populated course and the headwind for the first half of the race, I made a snap decision to chase down the pack ahead. They were about 20 seconds ahead at that point, but I put in 2-3 quick kms and this did the job. As soon as I got there, I was blowing for a bit, but knew it had been a good decision. There were now about 8 of us all running at a similar pace, and we took it turns to lead, but generally stayed together for about 8-10 miles, which flew by as a result of this shared load. It’s impossible to quantify the benefit of a stretch like that, but I’ll try. It felt like it was worth about 5 seconds per mile, both at the time and in hindsight.

That pack eventually started to dissipate behind just myself and a Scottish chap called Ross. We introduced ourselves to each other at this point and it transpired that he once ran the marathon for Scotland in the commonwealth games. Anyway, we kept a bit of gentle chit chat going to push each other through the hilly final few miles, and generally this helped really put the seal on what was a wholly positive race experience…but this was all down to a really good bit of decision making to chase that pack down about 20 miles earlier.  

4. The pros and cons of race tourism with family

What can I say…there are definitely pros and cons to having family support at races like this, especially when one of them is an incredibly boisterous 23 month old. Here’s a quick summary off the top of my head:

Pros:

• Lovely to feel truly supported and share the experience.
• Exposing my son to the positivity of running as much as possible.
• Nice distraction from my usual pre-race anxieties and weirdness.
• That post-race beer with my wife was just perfect.

Cons:

• I couldn’t just be ‘selfish’ with my usual pre-race routines; everyone needs to be factored in (although I sent everyone to Chester Zoo for the day to get a few hours of peace!)
• This managing of everyone’s needs / travel plans / meal requests / spectator logistics is definitely quite tiring in itself.
• Toddlers don’t suddenly become good sleepers in the build-up to a marathon. Ray refused to sleep in the travel cot I had hauled up from London on the train, so I spent my two nights before the race on some cushions on the floor. Yup, not exaggerating.

5. Fuelling for sub-maximal effort (and increased hydration)

Given that I knew I would be running this one sub-maximally, I would be using a slightly higher percentage of fat than carbs per minute than in previous marathons, so I knew I could get away with a less intense carb load. I went for 550-600g on both Friday and Saturday (approx. 9 g /kg, compared with ~11g/kg in recent marathons), and found this absurdly easy to manage; I really had to hold myself back.

I also kept my  intra-marathon carb intake a little lower than usual, with approx. 210 g over 2.5 hours (84g per hour), compared to my usual ~100g/hour. As with previous races, this was a combination of a homemade carb mix drink (90g in 250ml today) and gels (3 x 40g today).

I also made more of a conscious effort to proactively drink water in the second half of the course, which is something I often neglect a bit. I don’t often feel especially thirsty and don’t like to break my momentum, but the hot and humid Big Half 2024 reminded me to reassess this, and I feel this, and my fuelling plan overall worked really well for the race plan and conditions.  

6. London 2024, cancelled GSR, and the benefit of hindsight

After a performance like this, I couldn’t help but look back at London 2024 and feel cheated. I was in such strong shape in April, for 2:29 if not more, but as I’ve written before, something wasn’t right on the day and I took myself to a dark place to squeeze another 2:30.

To cruise round to 2:32:04 in Chester, barely a minute slower than London, on a much hillier course in fairly windy conditions, having neither trained for a marathon nor pushed myself hard in the race just confirmed my suspicions that London had been out of my control.

That said, the relaxation and control piece is definitely a factor too. I was perhaps inappropriately pumped for London and can learn from Chester in that respect.

The other big old dose of hindsight going on is that, as I write this in mid November, I can sadly  report that my ten mile goal race that I had been saving the legs for, Great South Run, was cancelled at short notice due to Storm Ashley, and who knows what I might have been able to achieve at Chester if I’d really gone for it. That said, maybe if I’d pushed even five seconds per mile faster I’d have crashed and burned. Like I say, who knows.

So those are my six things that I thought worth mentioning or documenting for my own reflections, but above all, this was just one of my most enjoyable race experiences to date, and hopefully not my last opportunity to represent my country at the sport I love. Chester is also a beautiful city that we will definitely be going back to, and I’d certainly do this race again…just perhaps staying in an AirBNB with a spare sofa bed next time.

Since writing this, England Athletics have written their own blog on the day, and have mentioned me by name and my (unintentional) finishing straight battle for M40 second place!

The post Representing England at Chester Marathon (2:32): my big six takeaways appeared first on Tom Hollis.

Before I reflect on the special day itself representing my country (next blog, coming shortly), I’ll recap here on the events that led to my selection.

Following my 2:30 PB at Valencia in December last year, I then had the smoothest and best marathon block of my life; every session went to plan, and I fully expected to break 2:30 at London in April. Sadly, something just wasn’t right on the day, and my heart rate started high, and kept rising. I ran for over two hours above my threshold, clinging on for dear life and finishing again in 2:30. To this day, I don’t know how I did it (a very high carb intake certainly helped), but I seriously wouldn’t recommend it; it was a wild and thoroughly unpleasant physical and mental battle.

At the finish line, there were seriously mixed feelings. I was proud of how I’d grafted for a good time and sizeable course PB when I was clearly not at my physical best (it turned out to be a cold that reared its head a couple of days later), but gutted not to go sub 2:30. Added to that was then having to deal with the emotional weight of explaining all the above to expectant family, friends, and clients, who had all assumed 2:29 was a done deal. We all know marathons don’t work like that though. Unlike shorter distances which can be, to some extent, blagged, the marathon will expose any weakness, any chink in the armour. London 2024 was also a big lesson to me in the value, sometimes, of keeping my cards a little closer to my chest in the build up to a race.

My coach wanted me to salvage some positivity from the block, and suggested I consider a last minute entry to Milton Keynes Marathon in early May, since it was the last of the year’s qualifying events for Masters marathon qualification for an England vest. If I could patch myself up quickly and recover in time for this (just fifteen days after London), and then finish among the top three M35 group (since I was still 39 at the time), I would be selected for England. It was a risk, but based on previous years’ results, it did seem possible, so I went for it and booked that day. Perhaps this was a classic post-marathon knee-jerk response, but there wasn’t time for indecision, as I think I took literally the last place available (I had to email the organisers, as it had officially sold out that morning). As per London lessons, I kept this race a secret from all but about five people in a bid to take the pressure off.

Within a day of booking, the aforementioned cold symptoms appeared, and perhaps unsurprisingly, given the exertions at London, they persisted right up until MK. My normally robust immune system had taken an absolute beating around the capital, and despite an array of pharmaceuticals and my trusty vitamin C + zinc, it wouldn’t shift.  

Milton Keynes arrived, and despite the sniffles, it was time to deliver the best that I could on the day and hope it would be good enough for that top three M35 place. I had been led to believe that it was a ‘fast, fairly flat’ course, but although it was a scenic and well organised event that I would certainly do again, it was apparent from early on that this course description was not at all accurate.

Annoyingly, within the first mile I experienced the same heart rate issue from London. It shot up during what should have been a really sensible start, pace-wise, and again it just kept climbing scarily towards threshold. The dread started to grip me. I wasn’t sure if I could do this all over again.

Then, just as I was about to go deep into a negative spiral, I was distracted and saved by Mark, an affable and like-minded guy from Durham. We met at about mile five, and then spent the next twelve or so miles running together, chatting a bit and just generally encouraging each other through tough moments. He was M45, but a very similar standard to me (2:30 at Seville 2024), and with similar aspirations for the day. The non-stop undulations and tight turns of the course were actually helping too, both as a distraction from me being a slave to pace, and also with the downhills providing opportunities for heart rate to settle a bit. However, without Mark I would probably have DNF’d regardless.

We went through halfway (the first loop of two) together in seventh and eighth place overall, which we knew would probably be enough for both of us to be top three in our age groups. However, it transpired that everyone else had misread the course too, and we started to reel people in. Despite slowing down ourselves, we were gaining on everyone in front of us, and one by one, started to pick them off.

At no stage was I feeling comfortable, but I think my London experience had given me extra confidence of pushing closer to my physical limits, and I had to leave Mark with a few miles to go. Spectators and marshals informed me that third place, then second, and finally even first place were not far in front, and I started to wonder if I could win this.

In the final mile, I overtook that final runner and took the lead. I was running on fumes by this point, but figured he must be too, so I just had to grind it out (including one last killer hill which we’d all been dreading from loop one). Once that was safely negotiated, I looked round and knew that I was clear. My wobbly legs got me round the MK Stadium finish as best they could, weaving past the half marathon finishers, and I burst through a hastily assembled finish line ribbon and promptly collapsed, gasping like a fish out of water.

2:37 was the finishing time; not especially impressive on paper, but this tells you nothing of the race itself. Not only had I secured top three M35 and done what I came to do, I had won a city marathon of nearly 2000 runners. Most importantly, this would mean I would qualify for that England vest. I was chuffed to see Mark soon finish in third place overall too, and it felt fitting to share the podium with him a little later. After allowing myself a few moments to bask in the glory, I jogged to the train station to get back to London and resume Sunday afternoon daddy duties, trying to explain to little Ray that I’d just won a big race.

A few weeks later I received email confirmation of my selection for England. What a moment! The representative ‘international’ marathon would be in Chester in October, which was totally at odds with the rest of my training schedule for 2024, but I wasn’t going to miss this moment; I booked Chester later that day.

The following summer months of running were really up and down, with more misses than hits. My 5k block was punctuated with too many races, but also too many fun weekends in quick succession: in Germany at the Euros, at Glastonbury, and then my 40^th birthday parties ( dietitians and coaches need downtime too), which meant that I struggled for consistency and rhythm. Results were all over the place, and my 5k PB of 15:55 was never under threat.  It goes to show how difficult it is to be on peak form all year.

The inconsistency continued into autumn, with solid outings at Sri Chinmoy 10k (33:19) and my hilly home town Frome Half Marathon (73:55, second place) followed by a chastening day at a humid Big Half (74:28) in early September. To compound the uncertainty, I managed to break my toe on holiday in Cornwall the week after, swinging my leg around and smashing my bare foot on a sofa leg while looking after Ray (a very similar injury to this time last year…I really must be more careful around the house). I knew exactly what to do this time though, so I strapped the toe, started cross training on day one, and waited for the pain to subside sufficiently to resume running. Luckily this was even quicker than last year – less than a week – and no fitness was lost. Next stop (and next blog) Chester…and England vest time.

The post Winning MK Marathon and qualifying for England representation! appeared first on Tom Hollis.

However, as training load increases, our nutrition needs to adjust too, to match the new demands placed on the body, and this applies particularly to intake of carbohydrates (the body’s preferred fuel for most exercise) and overall calories (energy). 

Unfortunately, whether consciously driven by a desire for greater weight loss or not, this upregulation of fuelling often does not take place. In my experience as a sports dietitian and running coach, runners are not always comfortable taking this step, especially if weight loss and body image concerns have been a longstanding issue, and even less so if they have seen some short-term performance benefit from being lighter.

Unfortunately, this approach can be really dangerous in the long-term. RED-S is a common syndrome that can affect runners across the spectrum, from elite to recreational, old and young, male and female, and yet remains poorly understood and under-recognised by most runners and coaches.

RED-S stands for ‘Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport’, an evolution of a previous syndrome called the Female Athlete Triad. The common thread between the two conditions is that both are characterised by low energy availability; that being the energy left over after exercise to fuel all the body’s essential functions. In 2014, the International Olympic Committee coined this new term of RED-S, acknowledging the growing evidence that a chronic calorie deficit (and thereby state of low energy availability) can affect males as well as females, and many more bodily systems than previously thought. Whereas the Female Athlete Triad focused on links between energy deficit, menstrual dysfunction and poor bone health, RED-S is much broader, and identifies that immune, gastrointestinal, mental, and cardiovascular health (to name a few) can also be impaired by chronic underfuelling. It’s also worth noting that the processes of metabolism itself can be impacted (i.e. slowed down) in RED-S as the body attempts to preserve energy, which can actually make weight loss and body composition goals harder to achieve, potentially convincing the runner they need to restrict even further.

Early warning signs might include frequent or persistent colds and bugs, indicating that the immune system is being downregulated as the body tries to adjust to low energy. Other early signs can be general fatigue, reduced motivation, or reduced performance in or recovery from training sessions. Since these symptoms are, in themselves, relatively minor and perceived to be common, it’s easy to see how they might be overlooked.

However, if these trends continue, more serious issues can arise. Bone scans are not routine within recreational sport, so a runner may have no idea that they have dangerously reduced bone density until suddenly experiencing a stress fracture. By this point, RED-S has likely become quite severe and needs careful management of nutrition and training load, over an extended period (and ideally with specialist input), to overcome.

Another key area is the hormonal dysregulation that impairs reproductive function. In both males and females, this might first present as decreased libido, and in males may correlate with erectile dysfunction, or reduced frequency of morning erections. In females, it can lead to irregular (oligomenorrhea) or total absence (amenorrhea) of menstruation, which can have knock-on effects on fertility that take months or years to overcome. And these symptoms may of course be masked (again, whether consciously or otherwise) by being on the contraceptive pill, preventing runners and coaches from picking up on this big red flag for inadequate fuelling. 

Despite being an uncomfortable topic, this fertility element of RED-S in particular has started to gain more mainstream media exposure, such as this widely publicised interview by Laura Kenny, Britain’s most successful female Olympian.

However, although RED-S awareness among recreational runners is on the rise, it is still poorly understood and under-diagnosed. It is therefore vital that articles and interviews continue to appear across all media, but also that coaches move away from outdated ‘thinner is faster’ attitudes, and that they help to screen their runners for RED-S. It has become a routine part of my practice for all new nutrition and coaching clients.

Indeed, the detection, prevention and management of RED-S should become slightly easier thanks to the updated IOC consensus statement from last year, which summarises the emerging evidence and provides a new clinical assessment tool. I would strongly urge runners of all levels to take a look.

The post RED-S and underfuelling appeared first on Tom Hollis.

Planning and prep

In some respects, planning for Valencia started several years ago, when I first became aware of it as such a rapid course. I very nearly took the plunge in one of the covid years but remember thinking that the cancellation policy looked particularly harsh given the state of the world at the time, so backed out and waited for normality to return. With London finally moving back from October to April this year, space was freed up, and 2023 felt a good bet. I booked as soon as I found out they were on sale, which, 11 months in advance, was still only quick enough for their second or third price ‘tranche’. It’s a hell of a long build up in terms of event participation.

This was my first overseas marathon for 8 years (the last being Rotterdam in 2015, when I broke 3 for the first time), and in all honesty, I found planning for it quite stressful. 2023 has been a year of strikes and travel uncertainty. As a man that hones in on detail in race week, this, plus hand luggage restrictions (how to get gels AND beetroot juice across?!), and choosing between accommodation certainty and affordability (I chose the latter), all added a layer of pre-race organisation I didn’t really relish.

Added to that was the nagging guilt of flying to a race, which, as I have posted on IG about, is something I don’t feel very comfortable with, and equally, of leaving my family behind.

Also, with international races so rare for me, it added an extra dimension of pressure (completely self-imposed, I should add), of a) getting to the start line in good health, which is challenging when all around you are coughing and sneezing their way through November, not least my little boy, and b) to smash the race and really make it count.

All this said, I got relatively lucky and can’t have many complaints about the logistics. I did get a dreaded email about flight times changing, but was then able to renegotiate more favourable times. I struck very lucky with my bargain Airbnb (happy to share details), and I somehow managed to avoid getting sick. I was here!

The event itself

The rumours are true: Valencia Marathon is an absolutely brilliant event, and I would recommend it without hesitation, whether you are chasing a PB or otherwise. Communication in the build up was slick, organisation on the day was great, and the whole city seems to be invested and proud of their race. 

One minor annoyance was the expo. Apparently this used to be in the city centre, but this year was moved to the Feria, some way out (pictured). I understand this might need to be the case as the event grows (and by comparison, the Excel expo is a nightmare to get to even for those who live in London), but getting there and back was difficult. No public transport route from the airport, for example.

The course is essentially flat, with only very minor undulations, before a slight but sustained downhill over the last 6km, which starts with a memorable, intense patch where the passionate spectators are so close on both sides that the course is only about a metre wide (very Tour de France). It all then finishes on the iconic blue carpet under bright skies, surrounded by glistening water. That dazzling blueness all around will stay with me forever…the most special finish to a race I’ve ever witnessed (even if I was absolutely eyeballs-out sprinting at the time).

Conditions play a huge part, of course, and having monitored Valencia closely for a few years, it seems it’s pretty much always perfect on race day. 2023 was no exception: sunny, cool (actually very cold initially), and barely a breath of wind. Marathon dreamland.

My training block

After London in April (2:34:30), I had my usual post-marathon month of running downtime before 2 months of dedicated speedwork, AKA a mini 5km block. This was a great plan, firstly because I got the sub 16 monkey off my back (15.55 in August), but also because I was then able to bring that improved top end into longer races. In September I went sub 33 in the 10k (32:47, Vitality 10k) and sub 72 in the half (71:40, Big Half), for the first time. 

The marathon block was 16 weeks, and generally went pretty smoothly. The exception was a freak broken toe incident at home in October, which thankfully healed in about a third of the 6 week prognosis I was given in A&E. Cross training saw me through that period, and I lost no fitness at all. I have newfound respect for the elliptical machine and aqua jogging!

As a new dad with ICU work and a business to run, free time is close to non-existent, so all but one of my runs each week are run commutes or buggy runs. Sunday early morning is my negotiated me time for a longer run, and it all just about works. 50 miles per week was the target for the first 10-12 weeks, then I was able to increase to 60-70 (a new high for me, in fact) in the final month pre taper.

Race and prep tactics:

Rather than list everything (because it gets refined each year…see previous blogs), I’ll mention a few things I did differently (and better) than previously.

1. Day to day nutrition. Even as my job, there is always room for improvement in nutrition. When sleep quality is inevitably and consistently poor, for reasons that are obvious, I needed to look at what else I could prioritise in terms of recovery, and I became incredibly consistent with pre and post run nutrition, matching this to the needs of the session. My wife and I have also made a conscious effort to improve the quality of our diet, from what was already a good baseline, especially with breastfed Ray in mind. Ultra-processed foods are at an all time low, and, anecdotally, I think it has been a big help.

2. Carb load. I hit 11g/kg on both the Friday and Saturday, which was a new high, on the back of a carb depletion at the start of race week, which takes skill to get right. 11g/kg takes practice, planning, and to learn what foods and drinks work for you, but it really makes all the difference on race day. This was one of the areas that was tougher to plan for an international race, and involved more carbs from drink mixes than usual, and plenty of snacks brought from home to reduce risk. 

3. Mid race carbs

I took 244g from gels over my 2.5h race, plus a few sips of the on course sports drink (it was in paper cups, so of course at least half of it ended up on my face), so I would have pretty much hit exactly 100g/hr for the first time. Again, this takes practice and it makes all the difference in what intensity you can sustain in the back end of the marathon. 

3. Running to HR

There’s way too much data in running and I certainly don’t get on board with it all, either as a coach or runner, as a lot of it is data for data’s sake, and prone to misunderstanding (prime example: continuous glucose monitoring in non-diabetics). Heart rate is an exception, and one of the simplest but most useful running metrics out there. My own coach, Chris, has long been an advocate of using it, and I certainly work it into my plans, where appropriate, with my own coaching clients as well. 

That said, the idea of running a marathon entirely to heart rate would have terrified me, right up until I did the Battersea marathon in October as a training run with no mid run fuel. This was done on heart rate to keep me well below threshold, and I ended up not only winning the race, but PBing by a few seconds. I was staggered, and also convinced to give this a go in Valencia, working with Chris to plan the race based on percentages of my maximum HR that I could tolerate for certain periods of time.

Battersea also showed me the importance of starting a race relaxed, especially in terms of HR management. My watch suggested I was managing this well on race morning, and it was great to meet and chat to a lovely Irish runner called Trevor (2:35 PB for him) for the final hour pre race to help ease the tension. 

Anyway the HR plan worked an absolute treat, and gave me the confidence that I could really attack the final 10k knowing I wouldn’t blow up. I went through halfway in 1:16:20, then 1:13:50 in the second half (which would have been a HM PB before this summer), with a 16:30 final 5k as I threw everything I had at it. 

I would be lying to say I was completely unaware of time and pace, and in the final 10k was trying to work out if there was an outside chance of sub 2:30. My brain couldn’t quite work it out, and from one km marker to the next, I kept changing my mind. As I approached the final straight I was sprinting, but knew I’d be slightly outside. 2:30:10. Arms outstretched, overly dramatic roar for the crowd…no part of me was anything other than elated. Another 4 minute PB and I’d done myself, my family, and my coach proud.

Could I have found another 11 seconds somewhere out there? Of course. I suspect if I raced the same course tomorrow (marathon legs notwithstanding), I’d be savvy enough to find that time. But sub 2:30 was never the aim. I am now within touching distance of a crazy milestone, but it can wait.

What next?

In the short-term: running downtime, navigating a sociable December, and repaying some favours to my wife. 

Then it’ll be a London marathon block from January, and I think the aim for that doesn’t need spelling out. It’ll be my last marathon before I turn 40 in July, and I’m not going to lie, I’m quite looking forward to being able to favourably compare myself to the V40 crew!

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1. Perspective

Evidently, I love running. More than that though, I love the satisfaction and graft that comes with ticking off session after session of structured training and seeing this translate into race day PBs. It’s my number one hobby by a mile (no pun intended), and what keeps that fire burning inside me.

However, it took several years to become a dad. The unexplained infertility and IVF rollercoaster (with mammoth Covid delays) was a long, emotional, and mostly terrible one, but we were one of the lucky ones to have a happy ending (and a shout out here to the quite incredible NHS service we received throughout all those years).

We now have our beautiful baby boy, who this week comes to the end of his ‘fourth trimester’, so called because human babies are so utterly dependent on their parents for the first three months of life that they may as well still be in the womb.

Anyway, my main point here is that I’ll never get these pivotal first months of his life back, and as much as I love and live for running, it will (hopefully) always be there in my life. I’m happy for it to take a distant back seat for as long as it needs to, especially given what it took to get us to this point.

2. Pick your moments and commit

Despite a thousand warnings, the first few weeks of parenthood were far more intense than I had anticipated (especially while also starting a new clinical job and navigating a flat sale and purchase at the same time). It’s no exaggeration – but undoubtedly gross – to admit that we sometimes didn’t even get round to having a shower or brushing our teeth, such was the intensity of those frenzied evenings.

Trying to wait for a calmer moment for self-care / a long run / strength work etc was and still is a pointless move; it will never come. A better approach is to be realistic, pick perhaps one of these things you want to do each week, commit to a time and try to stick to it. Half of those times there will be a last minute drama that prevents it, but at least you’ve tried!

3. Embrace the run-commute

I have been very pro run-commute for years, but it’s now reached the point where I do very little running outside the commute; it must be responsible for 80+% of my weekly volume currently, and my running would have fallen off a cliff without it. If you can make it work for you (i.e. you have a shower at work – everything else can be worked around with a bit of planning), it really is a no-brainer. For me, the time difference to public transport is negligible, it saves money, helps the planet, and is a journey I have to make anyway, as opposed to finding an excuse or that non-existent ‘good time’ as a new parent to get out of the door for a run.

If a run commute doesn’t work for you, the same can be said for any other journey that you needed to make anyway. Perhaps it’s easier to say from the perspective of someone who lives in a city and doesn’t own a car, but those first few weeks of parenthood were filled with me running to collect second hand baby clothes / kit / buggy from all over London. You spot an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and you take it, basically.

4. Accept you can’t do it all

All that said, it’s essential to accept that you can’t do it all. This applies to all elements of life when you’re a new dad (with the exception of the five star service I maintained for my private clients, of course ?), but running training in particular. The unpredictable nature of those first months means that consistent training is just not going to happen. My week by week Strava graph from October onwards resembles a child’s drawing of a mountain range, and I’ve long since accepted that this is fine…you just have to be kind to yourself and keep things ticking over as best you can.

Perhaps even more so than the running itself, though, is the impact on everything that goes alongside it. You can pretty much wave goodbye to any good routines you had around S&C, recovery, sleep etc.

Starting with sleep – yes, it is as bad as everyone says, especially in the first couple of months. I had long held the suspicion that my already terrible sleep quality that comes from the trauma of working on ICU throughout the pandemic (plus the early starts of ICU life) might mean that this would all be less of a shock to my system than it might be for some new dads, and I’d say this is probably how it’s turned out. I knew it was all worth it in the long run!

However, what has taken a massive hit has been any sort of S&C, warm-ups and stretching / yoga, all of which I had finally started to develop some consistency with in recent years. With every passing week, I realise these are the good habits that are quickly slipping. Each time, it’s ‘next week’, and so on, and so on. As we all know, it’s so much easier to continue doing something than it is to restart it once you’ve paused.

5. The baby lunge

The only exception to the above is my signature move: the baby lunge. Little Ray seems to love being held while I count through a few lunges (something to do with repetitive movement and me generating heat, I’m sure), and it’s second only to white noise* in terms of getting him to sleep during a crying fit. Naturally then, this tactic gets resorted to a lot, often in the middle of the night, and with the pressure on me to keep the lunges going for as long as possible and Ray slowly gaining in weight, at least I now have quads of steel even if the rest of my body is slowly turning to mashed potato!

*Specifically the ‘Womb Sounds’ app. Words cannot describe how grateful we are for this! We were recommended it during a particularly desperate evening of non-stop crying in about week three, and just looked at each other in disbelief at how quickly it worked – genuinely like giving a sedative. If this little snippet helps any new parents out there, then you are very welcome.

The post Running as a new dad – five things I’ve learned appeared first on Tom Hollis.

1. Training block issues

I’ve written about my training block woes on social media so I won’t dwell on it too much here, but in short, the start of the block was delayed due to finally getting Covid, the middle was disrupted due to minor (non-running related) surgery, and four weeks out I was leaving A&E on crutches with an agonising, freak ankle injury. I also missed almost all my planned summer races, due to the aforementioned crutches and Covid, but also heatwaves and train strikes!

I will never again take running fitness and consistent training for granted. It wasn’t all gloomy though. There was so much high quality training squeezed in around all of this drama that I knew that I was in good shape…just a bit undercooked come race day.

2. Race week prep

As race week approached, the crutches went back to A&E, and I knew I was racing. I tried to focus on what I could control, and went to town on my race week prep, including a few new elements and a few which were tried and tested:

• Optimal carb load (more on this later)
• Six days of nitrate (i.e. beetroot shots)
• Monday night sports massage
• ‘Yoga’ (which is basically my set stretching routine), foam rolling and muscle rubs on Tues, Thurs, Sat
• Stretching while still warm after each run during taper week (something I normally neglect)
• Caffeine taper (with the aim of optimising caffeine impact on race day, but which seemed to have the lovely side effect of deeper sleep too)
• I was in work full time during the taper, but I took every lift and escalator available, to save my legs (this very much goes against my natural instinct)

3. Home marathons have their benefits

Being a Londoner, it’s easy to take for granted that we have an amazing marathon major on our doorstep. It is a quick enough course, but there are certainly quicker out there. However, I honestly think that being at home really helps in the precision of the race week prep (see above), and in getting to the Expo nice and early, and all this must be worth a minute or two.

4. Carb load perfection

I hit and even exceeded the magic 10g carbs / kg on both Friday and Saturday (which I struggled to do at last year’s marathon – it’s not easy). I also went bigger than before on fibre reduction and kept things particularly beige (with a little help from some specialist sports drink mixes – another new addition). Come Saturday evening / Sunday morning I was concerned I’d overdone it as my bowels were a little, er….slow, but I needn’t have worried; the strategy worked perfectly.

5. Biggest ever mid race carb intake

I pushed it to about 90g carbs / hr (about 230g during the 2h38 race), which was a significant increase on last year. I had been able to trial this a bit in training, but not as much as I’d intended to, due to some longer runs missed when on crutches. Anyway, I got away with it, and this is the way forward.

6. Elevated heart rate

I really think I needed every drop of that sugar, too. My heart rate was higher than it should really have been for most of the race – more like tempo HR than marathon HR – so I would likely have been burning through carbs at a high rate. I decided to go with it rather than panic, and maintained pace and HR. This definitely could have backfired, but again, I just about got away with it.

7. Maranoia is an ever-present

It’s a stupid word (OK OK, ‘portmanteau’, but I feel self-conscious using that word too), but maranoia gets me every single year and probably always will. Maybe I’m just on higher alert, but everyone I sat next to during my taper seemed to be coughing and spluttering, and I got a bit obsessive about a higher-than-normal resting HR, convincing myself I was fighting off or brewing something. It might have been nothing, but even sitting on the tube on race morning, my heart rate was high and I felt weirdly jittery. For this reason I decided to swerve my usual pre-race caffeine and save it for the second half of the race, and I think this was a solid decision.

8. GPS in Canary Wharf is a total joke

I already knew this, and had run London three times before, but it seemed to be worse than ever and lasting for longer than ever this year. Totally useless. Trying to ignore it and ‘run to feel’ two thirds of the way through a marathon is really challenging.

9. The weather forecast was also a joke

Obviously I started looking 15 days out, which was silly, but even in the three days pre-race, the forecast went from dry with scary headwind, to a full day of heavy rain, until race morning when it had changed to a full day of beautiful sun. Again, totally useless and not good for condition-specific prep, but there’s no doubt I will be looking at it like hawk from 15 days out again next year.

10. Like stepping out at Wembley

I don’t know if it was part of my whole jittery race day vibe (see above), but I had this weirdly serious focus throughout the race, which unfortunately meant I didn’t engage with the crowd much, aside from a few times when I came to and realised / remembered quite how ridiculous the London atmosphere is. The best example was Tower Bridge. Earlier that morning on the packed train to Blackheath, a guy was telling some American marathon tourists that ‘crossing Tower Bridge is the closest you’ll get to being a footballer stepping out at Wembley’. I absolutely loved this description and it will stay with me. It was true yesterday as well…hairs on end. Just euphoric.

11. Legs trashed more than normal

They really are trashed. Like first-ever-marathon-trashed. As I write this, I genuinely have my quads slathered in Deep Heat and my feet in a lavender foot bath (don’t judge me). It wasn’t like this last year – what happened? Is it age? Did I push it further than normal? I literally can’t do stairs today.

Next steps

Speculation is easy, but I suspect with a full training block, I’d have been not far off 2:36 yesterday. I think sub 2:35 is a realistic target for the next marathon, but this is going to have to wait until winter 2023. I have a fairly major life event on the horizon meaning some time out from structured training for a bit, but will hopefully be back hungrier than ever next year!

The post 11 things I learned from London Marathon 2022 appeared first on Tom Hollis.

I did it as a progressive tempo training run, aiming to finish in something like half my target marathon time for London in October. Naturally, I got slightly overexcited towards the end (big crowds, banging tunes etc.) and sped up a bit, finishing about a minute ahead of schedule in 1h17.

It was the first time I’d run Hackney, and while this blog isn’t intended as a race review, the atmosphere was great, and I’ll run it again one day (under my own name) – just not as a PB race. For one, the course is quite winding and not particularly flat. But most importantly, being at the end of the spring race season in late May, it always seems to be roasting hot in East London.

I watched my girlfriend (now wife) run in it in heatwave conditions back in May 2016, and it really wasn’t much cooler this year. I have been lucky that most of my target half and full marathons over the years have been on the cool side, and in fact I can say with certainty that these were the hottest conditions I’ve done anything more than a 10k race in.

On the day of the race, I posted an Instagram story about how I thought the Hackney emergency services would be in for a busy day, and sadly this was very much the case. I received response after response to that story confirming they’d seen people literally dropping like flies around the course.

In the (enormous) race village, all the pre-race chat coming over the loudspeaker had been about ‘hydration, hydration, hydration’, but besides ‘drinking a lot’, what does this really mean, and why is it so important in hot conditions? What does the evidence say about hydration in endurance sport, and how can we apply that to ourselves? It’s undoubtedly a tricky area and one that so many runners get wrong, especially when race conditions aren’t kind.

First then, why hydrate? i.e. what happens if we don’t?

Good hydration is essential, both for health and exercise performance. A quick GCSE biology recap: when we exercise, muscles generate heat as a by-product. Sweating is one of our go-to physiological responses to counteract this; the evaporation of water from the skin surface allows us to lose heat from blood vessels near the skin surface. The lost water needs to come from somewhere though, so if this process continues unchecked (i.e. without rehydration), blood plasma volume will reduce significantly (hypovolaemia) or core body temperature will steadily rise (called hyperthermia when exceeding 40 celsius), or both.

As a lot of those Hackney runners found out, this can result in heat-stroke, which at its worse can be fatal. However, well before this grim endpoint is reached, evidence suggests that, although there is huge individual variability, dehydration even at the level of >2% of body weight (i.e. 1.4kg of fluid loss for a 70kg runner) can affect aerobic performance and also cognitive function in hot conditions. This latter effect might be particularly important in the context of, say, decision making about fluid intake or pacing, and exacerbate the problem. These effects all increase as dehydration worsens, and when we reach 6-10% bodyweight loss, cardiac output, sweat production and muscular blood flow can all be compromised. Nasty.

How much to drink?

So, what can we do to prevent this? In general, it’s best to start a race (or hard training session) in a state of ‘euhydration’, that being one of neither over- nor under-hydration, with pale, straw-coloured urine. Clearly, starting in a dehydrated state would be a bad idea, whereas overhydration can cause GI discomfort and unwanted mid-run toilet trips!

During the run / race itself, hydration advice has shifted in the past decade or so. The traditional viewpoint used to be that ‘drinking to thirst’ was unsafe, because if you’re already thirsty, you’re already dehydrated, with runners therefore advised to pre-empt and avoid thirst by drinking early and regularly.

However, this method has its own risks, chiefly that of overhydration and exercise-associated hyponatraemia (EAH). This is known to be very common among recreational endurance athletes, and is essentially when the blood becomes diluted (specifically with regard to sodium content), due to replacement of fluid but not electrolytes (which I will get to later). Without wanting to sound too dramatic, again, at its most severe, EAH can be fatal.

Endurance runners are now advised, therefore, that following their instinctive thirst mechanism is a useful starting point to avoid EAH. There is phenomenal variability in sweat rates (anywhere from around 300ml to 2.5L / hour), both between and within individuals, depending on conditions and exercise intensity. However, for the majority of endurance runners, a range of 400-800ml fluid intake per hour is appropriate, with the higher end applied to faster or heavier athletes or hotter conditions (and vice versa).

Again though, this range remains just a starting point. A dietitian can help individualise the plan, but an athlete should also learn through their own experience about what they need. Sweat rate and lab composition testing can be helpful, but runners can also get into the habit, from time to time, of weighing themselves pre and post run (naked, wiping off any skin surface sweat) and working out sweat losses per hour in different conditions (accounting for any drinks consumed during the session, of course).

What to drink?

So now we know roughly how much to drink – or at least how to go about learning how much. What about what to drink? Let’s kick that off with another quick GCSE biology recap by way of some key definitions. These terms are thrown around freely in relation to sports drinks, but are, in my experience, quite poorly understood:

Hypotonic (e.g. water, dilute squash)

• less concentrated than blood
• best for rapid hydration

Hypertonic (e.g. hydrogels, most ‘recovery’ drinks)

• more concentrated than blood
• best for recovery and rapid carbohydrate delivery

Isotonic (e.g. most traditional sports drinks)

• similar concentration to blood
• all-rounder: compromise between hydration and carbohydrate delivery

When we talk about concentration, what we are really referring to here is the amount of sugars and salts (electrolytes) per litre. And when we consider our drink of choice, it’s important we can understand and weigh up the options, because ultimately it becomes a trade-off between optimal hydration and optimal carbohydrate delivery.

During a run, if rapid (re)hydration is needed above all else (e.g. from a safety perspective), a hypotonic solution such as water could be prioritised. If energy (carbs) are an urgent priority (but no other options e.g. gels are immediately available), then a hypertonic, sugar-heavy drink could be chosen.

However, in most other circumstances, isotonic is the way to go during a run. The rehydration rate is not far behind that of a hypotonic drink, and you have the added bonus of a gentle infusion of carbs (to be factored in alongside your race day fuelling plan) and electrolytes. In fact, current endurance sport guidelines consider the sodium levels found in most isotonic sports drinks to be optimal during prolonged exercise, for most athletes. Again though, there is great variability in sweat composition. Some people regularly see white salt marks on clothes or have salty-tasting sweat. In such ‘subjectively salty sweaters’ (or those that have lab-tested their sweat composition), alternative electrolyte plans are likely to be needed, especially when these runners also have either naturally high sweat rates and / or hot or humid conditions.

Remind me what electrolytes are?

Before moving on, a very quick recap on electrolytes and why they are important. Sodium is the one we hear most about, but potassium, calcium, magnesium, chloride and phosphate are all crucial too. Electrolytes are so called because they carry electric charge across cell membranes, and when this balance is disturbed, heart, nerve and muscle function can all be compromised.

And what about post-exercise rehydration?

One of the other important roles that electrolytes (especially sodium) play is regulating fluid balance, which takes us on nicely to post-exercise rehydration. Despite the pre-run and mid-run hydration guidance above, it is expected that any prolonged endurance exercise is likely to end up with some bodyweight fluid deficit (especially in conditions like Hackney) and the recommendations are to rehydrate with 150% of that lost weight. So, if you’re 1 kg lighter after the run, drink 1.5L.

The most efficient and optimal way to do this is with a surprisingly salty drink. Guidelines state that >60 mmol sodium per litre is optimal for fluid absorption, and it should be pointed out that this is where commercially available sports drinks really don’t cut it. They fall well below this level, because it wouldn’t be palatable to the general consumer and wouldn’t exactly fly off the shelves! So this is where my homemade special recipe comes in handy (and cheap):

• 500ml orange juice
• 500ml water
• 2/3 of a tsp of salt

…mix together and enjoy the salty smugness of optimal rehydration!

Very concise summary of recommendations:

• Pre-run: start euhydrated (pale straw urine)
• Mid-run: drink to thist is an acceptable starting point
• Most fall within 400-800ml / hour range (higher end if heavier, faster or hotter)
• Isotonic usually wins for mid-run
• Individualised plans (for volume and electrolytes) are best
• Rehydrate post-run with 150% of lost weight, and go homemade for optimal results

Right, so there you have it. Hopefully that is a one-stop-shop with everything you needed to know about hydration in endurance sport, but as ever, your friendly sports dietitian (me) can help make sure you’re getting everything right with an individualised hydration plan. Anyone else thirsty?

The post Hydration hydration hydration: everything you need to know about hydration in endurance running appeared first on Tom Hollis.

Looking back on my last one of these pieces, reflecting on London 2019, I mentioned that the next aim had to be to have a go at going sub 2:45 and achieving a London Championship place. Sadly for me, that 2:45 cut-off had become 2:40 the time I next looked…presumably a reflection of better times at the top end of the recreational level, with advances in footwear and sports nutrition probably to thank for that. Once I’d gotten over the shock of this news, I realised I was going to have to go all in for an amazing training block.

I had been keeping an eye on Spanish winter races (I was also very much up for a holiday in Valencia / Sevilla / Malaga), but with so much uncertainty about travel restrictions and mass events in general, announcements were practically non-existent, so eventually I ran out of patience and made a spur-of-the-moment decision in early June, and booked Manchester for October. I’d never raced there before but heard it was fast and fairly flat.

I figured this gave me just enough time for a decent block, and I wasted no time in enlisting the help of Chris Bird as coach (Team Birdman). I’d never used a coach before, but had already spoken with Chris in May, and I liked his mentality and approach. I realised that for the first time, I needed some proper strategy and structure to my training.

I am not going to go into detail regarding his methods (because I wouldn’t do it justice and it also does a disservice to people that pay for it), but in a nutshell, there is an emphasis on quality over quantity, monitoring of stress, and specificity of training around goal marathon pace. So with that in mind, my training was based around achieving the frankly terrifying target of sub 2:40. I didn’t have enough time for his ideal full marathon block, but enough time to see serious benefits.

And those benefits came along faster than expected. One of the great things about training for a marathon is that you’re in such good shape that you can pick up PBs at shorter distances almost by accident. In mid-July I took over two minutes off my (admittedly out of date) 10km PB at Battersea, then a month later on the same course, I went 40 seconds faster again, taking the PB down to 33:54.

Fast parkruns were mainly off the menu in this block, but I took over half a minute off my PB at my hilly local (Finsbury Park), finishing in 17:02, before then taking my 5km PB on the track down to 16:34 in September. Sadly I didn’t have time to squeeze in a half marathon in this block – it would have been at the expense of a key workout, and with eyes on the prize, I prioritised the latter.

It’s worth mentioning as well that since I last ran a marathon, I have become formally qualified as a Sports Dietitian, and set up this business. I take pride in helping others towards their goals, but also in practising what I preach in terms of running nutrition. It is never about being perfect, but instead getting into good habits and doing the right thing the majority of the time, to get the best from your training, and of course, race day. I’ve got absolutely no doubt that this was another key factor in my training block.

With the pandemic interrupting 2020, this has been my first proper marathon season with private running clients. It’s been a busy one, and the past three weeks have been dominated by ‘race booster’ sessions. It’s no secret that carb loading is king in race build up (and this forms part of these sessions), but most runners don’t get anywhere near where they need to be. I’m not ashamed to admit that this previously included myself; I assumed that since my diet was already high carb, I just needed to increase my portion of rice or pasta on the days leading up to the race and that would be job done…nope.

10g carbs / kg of bodyweight / day is a good target for 2-3 days pre-marathon, and this is a goal I discuss with clients. However, it’s not until you try it yourself that you really experience how challenging that can be. The method I used for myself was not to plan out each meal (especially as I’d be away from home for some of it), but to keep a rolling carb tally. I used to say carb loading was one of my favourite periods, but not any more. I don’t want to see another crumpet or fruit loaf for a long, long time.

Even during that short trial, I learned as I went along and got better at it. I hit about 9.5g carbs / kg on both days, but it felt harder and more uncomfortable on the Friday than it did on the Saturday. I took 2 tupperware tubs of sweetened overnight oats (100g carbs per tub) with me on the train up to Manchester and these went down very easily – definitely one to remember for next time.

On to race day. It was much sunnier and therefore a bit warmer than the forecast, but I’d still say conditions were in our favour overall. However it didn’t really feel that way when we were made to wait an extra 15-20 minutes in the starting pen (we’d already been there nearly an hour) due to an unspecified delay. Standing there crammed in in the sun did nothing for the nerves, nor for the pre-race fuelling timings (carbs, caffeine and nitrates) or toileting strategy…

And I have to admit that although it was generally a well organised and fantastically supported event, that start pen situation was one of a number of areas where it felt inferior to London. In the build up to the event, the details of the on-course nutrition varied depending on where you looked (and this stuff matters to someone like me), and the tracker website on the day was a total disaster. My friends and family had no idea how I was doing, and my poor wife must have been worried waiting at mile 19, especially with that delayed start.

I started the race with two others from the coaching group. Our plan was to start slow and build pace each mile until hitting a steady 6:04 / mile. On the whole I think this strategy worked (and there is logic to it in terms of fuel use), but it always needs to be balanced against leaving too much to do in the second half / final quarter. Negative splitting is not easy.

I went through halfway in 1:20:40, which was about 20-30 seconds off what I’d planned, and it then dawned on me that I pretty much needed 1:19 dead in the second half. Speeding up wasn’t a sensible option, especially with the next few miles being the hilliest section of the course (not that I’d planned for this – it was definitely not as flat as I’d anticipated), so I kept things ticking over with 6:04 miles.

By this point, I had had a couple of other dramas. My left shoe felt perfect but the right was much looser in the toe-box, and the foot was moving around far too much. Stopping to fix that would have taken ages so I just had to try to ignore it, which I managed, periodically. More importantly, I had to completely change my gel plan after 8 miles. My first Maurten 100 really didn’t go down well (that unusual texture felt even thicker than normal somehow), so I decided it was not worth the risk of continuing, and I moved over to relying on the on-course SiS. The Maurtens in my belt went untouched. They seem to be a firm favourite for so many runners now, and I would say around 70% of my clients use them, but at this stage I have to say I’m not a huge fan. Maybe I’ll go back one day, but in the meantime, I now have plenty of spare sachets for sale!

I ended up going for an SiS every 3.5 miles, and this just about did the job. As I went past my wife at mile 19 I thought I still had a chance of sub 2:40, but then had the quickest of chats with another guy aiming for the same, who said ‘this is exactly where I fell apart last time’…not what I needed to hear! Strangely, I met him again on the train back to London and it turns out he lives round the corner from me.

I went through 30km in 1:54:35 (average pace 6:08), and then with 10km to go I realised I was going to need to speed up at some point soon. The official splits show that I did the last 12.2km at 6:00 pace, but this doesn’t tell the full story. There might have been a very slight uptick in pace at that point, but really I was just spending the next half an hour doing mental maths to work out if it was still on. Quite a big part of me wanted it not to be on, as I was really suffering and the mental demons had well and truly arrived…it would have meant an excuse to drop the pace a touch and maybe even enjoy the last 15 minutes. Sadly it was never that clear cut.

Of course, a marathon is meant to involve a fair bit of suffering (it’s kind of the point and what makes it such a great and humbling distance), but even now on my sixth one, I always forget quite how deep you have to dig.  With 2.2 miles to go, I got my maths wrong and suddenly thought I was comfortable with a minute to spare. Then with a mile to go I realised that was wrong and I needed to step on it again. With half a mile to go I was going at my 5k pace (5:25) and the long finishing straight was the most agonising, eyeballs-out sprint that I could muster, with my heart rate allegedly peaking at 190 bpm. My face in the official photos tells quite a story.

My watch showed 2:39:56. Ten minutes later I got the confirmation text saying 2:39:57, and I couldn’t control my emotion. It’s been a seriously hard few weeks and months for a variety of reasons, and it all just hit me in that moment. But then, that’s one of many reasons why I love running; there aren’t many things in life that will bring that emotion out of me.

I finished 54^th out of 13,849 finishers, which is a stat I’m still trying to get my head round. And the fact that it all came down to 3 seconds is just ridiculous. I would never have classed 2:40:xx as a failure, but this really feels like a major milestone and achievement for me, and the culmination of so much effort in training and everything that goes alongside it. I think when it comes down to 3 seconds out of 9,600, Dave Brailsford’s marginal gains theory feels pretty valid.

So what next? Well, having been my proudest PB a year ago, my half marathon time of 1:17 is probably the one most in need of a refresh now, so perhaps that’s the plan for spring. And looking beyond that, although the thought of another marathon is just horrible right now, realistically I’ll be making the most of my London Championship place in 2022 and the opportunity to start alongside the elites!

The post Manchester Marathon 2021 appeared first on Tom Hollis.

Time:  2:51:29

Halfway: 1:26:57

With: John

Conditions: Freakishly perfect. Sunny and cold again

Fresh from breaking 3 in Rotterdam, I waited eagerly for the London Marathon Good for Age entries to open in August 2015, and secured my place for 2016. I’d been living in London for 8 or 9 years by that point, had been in the marathon crowd most years, and half-heartedly applied (unsuccessfully) for a ballot place a couple of times too. So, this definitely felt like my home race, and a big moment.

I was working in central London by this point too, and was clocking up most of my training miles either running to or from my hospital in Paddington. Looking back at Strava, what strikes me is how little training I was doing. I’m sure it felt like loads at the time, but it’s amazing how perception of training mileage shifts so dramatically with time. In January 2016 I covered 176km, and just 127km in February. Having said that, February also included a two week trip to Sri Lanka with friends (the freedom!) which not only meant that plenty of surfing and cricket but very little running took place, but also that I returned home with a tropical disease. I never had it fully diagnosed but the tropical diseases centre narrowed it down to either dengue fever or chikungunya. And whichever it was, it was the sickest I’ve ever been: debilitating aches from head to toe and drenching my bed with sweat for a week. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

So there was no training at all for three weeks, other than one loosener before the Bath Half in mid-March. To my surprise, I PB’d there in 1:23, and it looks like this gave me the confidence to ramp things up. As per previous training blocks, all runs were done at maximum effort, close to 4 min/km. I ended up clocking 182km in March, and 120km in the three week taper in April.

Enough about training – on to race week. I went to the expo at the Excel Centre after work to pick up my race kit and goodie bag, and as always, absolutely loved this bit and allowed myself to get ludicrously hyped up.

The day before the race, my then new girlfriend (and now wife), Holly, accompanied me for a 5k shake out around the block, and my parents came up from Somerset for the weekend too.

I remember feeling full of pride as I met up with John (who’d also qualified via Rotterdam – see blog 1) in the Good for Age pen, although in reality it was just another field in Greenwich with perhaps slightly shorter queues for the portaloos.

As usual, the race itself is something of a blur, although I remember being staggered by the size, consistency, and noise level of the crowds. This was a totally different level to Berlin and Rotterdam. I also remember getting my biggest ever runner’s high when Champagne Supernova came on my shuffle as I ran past Cutty Sark.

I went through halfway in 1:26:57, and must have been feeling good at this point, because I sped up and finished with a decent negative split, covering the second half in 1:24:33, and a big PB overall of 2:51:29. There is no doubt the cool, sunny conditions had been kind again, and that I got a huge boost from the crowd in the second half, not least from Holly, my family and all the noisy Prostate Cancer UK stands (as I was wearing their vest).

Looking back at my splits, this has to be one of the best races I’ve ever run. Once again, a ridiculously happy day in the sunshine followed – once we’d got the dreaded first meeting of girlfriend and parents out of the way, obviously.

4. London, April 2017

Time:  2:53:54

Halfway: 1:25:43

With: Solo

Conditions: Sniffly

I duly booked my Good for Age place again for 2017, although knew that my winter training was going to be pretty different this year, having arranged a sabbatical from work to live and travel in Argentina and Uruguay for four months with a couple of friends. This had been arranged before meeting Holly, but she whittled me down to four months from the original six. A fair compromise, I would say.

They were four truly incredible months, as we covered 8000km on a month-long road trip, helped on a conservation project in Uruguay and spent much of the rest of the time eating and drinking far too much. The running trainers came with me everywhere, but in all honesty, didn’t get used much. That said, there were some unforgettable moments, and some of the solo runs in Patagonia were the most beautiful I’ve ever done. I covered 80km in each of October, November and December, but by the time we got to Christmas in Cordoba, it was over 35 degrees Celsius every day, and those runs will also live long in the memory, for all the wrong reasons.

Uruguay in January was fresher (relatively speaking – probably still close to 30 degrees), and I got a bit of rhythm with 143km in the month, before coming home in February…to snow. February was productive, with 176km, before 193km (my biggest ever month at the time) and a Bath Half PB of 1:22 in March.

Logistics on race day couldn’t have been much easier, as I stayed with my brother who lived within walking distance of the start, but annoyingly, I had a cold. Particularly annoying as I get them about once every few years. I felt fine, but it was one of those when my nose was a tap that couldn’t be turned off. I made light of it at work, but I remember my ICU colleague on the Friday asking whether I should really be running. It didn’t cross my mind not to, but in hindsight, having now worked on ICU and seen plenty of runners (mainly men, and mainly at the faster end of the recreational spectrum) push themselves too far and end up in one of our critical care beds, perhaps I should have listened.

Anyway, I got lucky in that nothing serious happened, but I can see that my pace dropped off quite significantly in the second half. I went through halfway in 1:25:43, but got slower with every 5k split thereafter, and ended with 2:53:54. Perhaps it was the cold, or that I’d left too much to do after very little running in South America, but this was the first time I’d not PB’d at a marathon. It was no disaster though, and I seemed happy enough when I wrote about it in this blog.

5. London, April 2019

Time:  2:47:30

Halfway: 1:21:22

With: Solo

Conditions:  Battling

Looking back on this blog in 2018, it seems that those last couple of months prior to London 2017 had really taken it out of me (hardly surprising when I was still running every training run flat out), and I’d made the early decision to skip a year in 2018.

And I got lucky. That race day I missed in April 2018 was unseasonably hot, and knowing me at the time, I would have stuck stubbornly to my target pace, and probably suffered massively.

However, I soon had the running bug back (thanks in part to a belated discovery of parkrun), and in autumn of 2018, signed up for London 2019 again and also joined my local running club, London Heathside. As I have previously written about, I had arrogantly assumed that I wouldn’t benefit much from a running club, as I pushed myself hard enough in training anyway.

Needless to say, I was wrong, and besides some healthy competition on the track, I also learned so much about how to pace different training sessions to get maximum performance benefit. Not only that, but I was surrounded by loads of clubmates who were also building up to London, and sessions were all geared specifically towards this.

Looking back to Strava again, the year started steadily enough, with 159km in January, before (I think) my first ever 200km month in February, and 241km in March that included a first sub 80 half marathon in Bath (1:19:37). This felt huge at the time, and proved to me that the training was paying off. 200km more were squeezed into the first three weeks of April, including a 22 miler along the Thames that one toenail has still not recovered from – not even joking.

On to race day again. After a year off marathons, I was more hyped than ever as I walked up to the Good for Age enclosure from my brother’s house again. And while this adrenaline is normally a good thing for me and something I can channel into performance, I let myself get carried away and broke the number one golden rule. With my tapered legs feeling amazing, I set off far too fast. I went through 5k in 18:44, which was not far off my actual 5k pace at the time, and this laid the foundations for what would be a horrible race.

I went through halfway in 1:21:22, but remember even at this point knowing I’d overcooked it. Inevitably, every 5km split after this point was slower than the last, but I was desperate not to let it unravel completely. As I wrote about in this blog, I really didn’t enjoy much of this race at all, and it was essentially a non-stop mental battle where I tried to work out how much I could afford to slow down and still PB.

As ever, the crowd (and particularly family and friends) kept me going, and I covered the second half in 1:26:08 and with a four minute PB of 2:47:30. If this ends up being my lifetime PB, then I wouldn’t be too unhappy, but I’ll also know that I was capable of more if I’d not been such an idiot with my pacing!

That concluded my trilogy of London races. If you’ve got this far, then thanks for indulging me with my trip down marathon memory lane. Two years later and with the pandemic settling down (and having written this blog), I’ve got the itch to go 26.2 again. I haven’t been to the club track in well over a year, but I’ve kept myself ticking over in the background and I’m ready to give it everything again. I haven’t got a place in London in October, but I’m keeping a very firm eye on a few Spanish races (and travel restrictions) this winter. Watch this space.

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